We’ve been estranged for four years.
And still, I cry.
Not every day. Not every hour.
But the grief?
It’s always there—humming just beneath the surface, ready to rise when I least expect it.
Sometimes, it comes quietly. A photo. A birthday. A smell.
Other times, it crashes like a wave I didn’t see coming.
For a long time, I told myself the crying meant I was stuck. Weak. Broken.
Four years is a long time to keep aching.
Shouldn’t I be over it by now?
But I’ve come to understand something deeper:
I’m not crying because I’m stuck.
I’m crying because I love deeply.
And that love had nowhere to go when the door was closed.
The truth is—
Love doesn’t expire when relationships end.
It doesn’t dissolve when someone walks away.
It lingers…
In the empty chairs.
The unsent messages.
The dreams you still have for someone who isn’t in your life.
What I miss most are the quiet, ordinary moments:
Brushing her hair.
Sitting hip to hip watching a movie.
Hearing her laugh fill the room like music.
That’s what wrecks me—the everyday closeness that used to be ours.
This large, daughter-shaped space still aches so deeply.
But maybe grief is love’s shadow.
And if that’s true, then it makes sense that it still hurts.
It makes sense that I cry.
It makes sense that I feel her absence like a missing limb…
Even while I’m doing my best to move forward.
I don’t want to grieve forever.
I don’t want to be consumed by longing.
I want to make peace with what is—while still holding space for what could be.
This isn’t giving up.
This is letting go of the grip of grief.
This is choosing to carry love—without letting it crush me.
To anyone grieving someone still alive—
Estrangement. Addiction. Silence. Conflict.
I see you.
Your grief is valid.
Your tears are sacred.
And your longing?
It’s just proof that you loved well.
I’m learning to let that be enough.
⸻
A Letter to God
Dear God,
You’ve seen every tear I’ve cried.
You’ve heard every whispered prayer—begging, pleading, bargaining for healing in a place I can’t reach on my own.
You know how deeply this estrangement has shaken me.
How empty the silence feels.
How heavy these four years have been.
I know You’ve watched me love her from a distance—with a love that feels like both a blessing and a wound.
You know how many times I’ve asked for a sign:
A shift.
A softening.
A flicker of hope.
I know You hear me—even when the world doesn’t.
God, I’m asking You for strength.
For patience.
For comfort in the places no one else sees.
Hold the parts of this story I can’t carry anymore.
Guide her heart—gently, in Your timing—even if I never see the process.
And God…
Forgive me for the jealousy.
The anger.
The fear.
The ache that makes me question my worth.
You know these thoughts come from pain—not from lack of faith.
Help me move toward acceptance—
Not because I’m giving up…
But because I want to stop hurting this much.
Help me carry love without carrying despair.
Help me trust that You are working in ways I can’t see.
Help me soften where I’ve hardened, and rest where I’ve been restless.
And most of all…
Please watch over her.
Wherever she is, whatever she’s doing—keep her safe.
Keep her surrounded by love.
Let her feel mine in moments she can’t explain.
And when the time is right, if it’s Your will—open the door for healing between us.
Amen.
⸻
I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know if we’ll find our way back. But I do know this: I loved her with everything I had. And now, I’m choosing to love myself too.
—————-
Affirmation:
I can love her deeply without losing myself in the grief.
I release what I cannot control and welcome the peace I deserve.
⸻
Call to Action:
If you’re navigating estrangement, just know—your grief is real. Your love is valid. And you’re not alone.
Comment below, message me privately, or share this with someone who’s hurting too.
Sometimes, just knowing someone gets it makes all the difference. 🤍
If this touched something in you, share it. Leave a comment.
Your story matters too. 💜
#Estrangement #Grief #LettingGoWithoutGivingUp #Motherhood #Healing #Faith